


What You Wish For

by awarrington



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Abduction, Aliens, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mind Games, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine mission, an alien encounter, an abduction.</p><p>"When young Jimmy Kirk was in grade school, his grandmother taught him, ‘Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.’"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in T'hy'la 34 in 2013. With thanks to Kathy for encouraging me to write this.

When young Jimmy Kirk was in grade school, his grandmother taught him, ‘Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.’

~*~

Traversing the vast distance between two far-flung stars on the edge of Federation space, the _Enterprise_ was approaching her second week of the journey. Outside, her hull was illuminated by the bright young stars and ionized gases of a nearby Mutara-class nebula, while inside on her bridge the crew silently and diligently worked at their stations, their tasks accompanied by the quiet cacophony of tones and beeps from the ship’s systems.

Captain Kirk sat in the center seat, legs crossed, a compslate balanced precariously on his knee as he read and signed reports. He scanned the latest document from his CMO, informing him that with little eventful happening beyond the day-to-day running of a starship, stress levels among his crew were at their lowest for nearly three months. Quiet times were all very well and good, Kirk silently acknowledged, but it was only two hours into his shift and frankly, he already felt _bored_.

Kirk caught a movement in his peripheral vision when his first officer stood to bend over the sensor shroud, its light casting an eerie glow over his face as he examined readings from the nearby nebula. Kirk’s gaze swept over Spock’s long, slim back, then dropped to the ass he never tired of surreptitiously checking out, having gotten over feeling any guilt for it early on in his tenure on the _Enterprise_.

His attraction to Spock – on both a physical and mental level – had been present right from the offset. He’d vowed never to get involved with any of his crew, but he knew early on he’d be willing to make an exception with Spock, especially since all the reasons he had for refraining – like concerns of being taken advantage of by the other party, or perceptions of favoritism by other members of the crew – were simply not an issue when it came to the Vulcan.

Despite closely observing his first officer during the first eighteen months of their mission, Kirk never saw him show the remotest interest in _anyone_ , male or female. Since so much to do with Vulcan culture was shrouded in secrecy, he didn’t have the first clue about their sex-lives or sexual mores, though six billion inhabitants showed they obviously did engage with each other on that level, hard as it was for him to imagine it of such a logical species. He’d come to the conclusion that Spock was more than likely asexual, or as near as dammit. It was a theory that lasted until their mission to Omicron Ceti III – where spores had driven Spock’s attraction to Leila Kalomi. It would have kindled a hope in Kirk that he might be able to persuade Spock to take their budding friendship to a new, more intimate level. But on the journey to Starbase 27, where they dropped off the colonists, Spock completely reverted back to his previous level of disinterest, having been freed from the effects of the spores.

What that mission did was give him a tantalizing glimpse of what Spock was capable of in a relationship, showing him Spock _could_ respond, but that he _chose not to_ , apparently exercising that incredible Vulcan self-control of his to avoid romantic – and emotional – entanglements, keeping everyone at arm’s length, or further.

While the attraction remained purely on the physical level, he was able to shrug it off as being fairly typical of a red-blooded male with a far-from-ideal sex-life. He knew he was _far_ from alone in becoming attracted to another member of the crew. Five years was a _long_ time to spend in space so far away from home, and as a result dating among his crew was endemic, many of them regularly falling into and out of relationships. Unofficially, break-ups were the single greatest cause of crew transfers – though he’d yet to see that reason cited on the accompanying paperwork. Some did stand the test of time, and as he watched the ones fortunate enough to fall in love – and even conducted weddings for a few of them – he sometimes felt the loneliness of command that friendship alone couldn’t assuage. He managed to ease his bodily needs here and there, but while he enjoyed the fleeting sexual encounters, he found they were a bit like scratching an itch: the good feeling never lasting long.

The problem for him with regards his attraction to Spock, was that it – whatever _it_ was – had gone and evolved into something more as he’d gotten to know Spock better. He actively sought the Vulcan’s company between shifts and reveled in the quiet times they had together. What really brought it home to him was their mission to Deneva. In its aftermath, and already grieving for his brother, he’d contemplated how close he came to losing Spock, too, as a result of the blindness, and how horrified he was at the thought of it on every level. While it did scare him, he continued to remain reluctant to analyze just what _it_ was, exactly.

Spock moving to sit back at his station interrupted Kirk’s thoughts, the Vulcan’s slender fingers flying over the controls in front of him as he input the latest data from the nebula at a far faster rate than any human could manage.

Kirk admonished himself: this was _not_ the place for his mind to be wandering. Uncrossing his legs, he sat up a little straighter and glanced around to see if any of his crew had noticed his transgression, but they all appeared focused on their own tasks, as he should be.

Just as he resolutely turned back to his compslate to initial McCoy’s report, the turbolift doors opened to deposit the man himself – a very welcome respite from the tedium, and not-very-helpful musings. He looked up as his friend stepped down to stand beside his chair, bringing with him a faint waft of the disinfectant that always reminded him of sickbay – and not in a good way.

“How’s it going, Bones?”

“Oh…” McCoy stared up at the ceiling as if contemplating the question, “about fair to middling.”

Kirk’s smiled. “That good, huh?”

“I’m caught up on my paperwork, I’ve done a full inventory of the medical stores and run two medical simulations for drill practice for my team. I hate to admit it, but I’ve just reached that point where I’m running out of ideas what to do next.”

Kirk’s smile widened. “‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…’”

“Yup, that about sums it up. I never thought I’d be the one saying this, but we could do with a little action around here.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Bones!”

“Ain’t that the truth!” the doctor agreed. Turning to glance at the nebula on the viewscreen, he frowned. “Have you increased magnification, or is that thing nearer than it was at the start of shift?”

“It’s nearer,” Kirk confirmed, mentally steeling himself for McCoy’s reaction.

The doctor looked alarmed. “Didn’t you say yesterday this type of nebula was dangerous if we get too close?”

“I did, but only if we are within its boundaries. All we’re doing is skirting a little closer, maintaining a maximum safe distance, so Spock and his astrophysics team can get some more accurate readings from it.”

McCoy scowled. “And whose clever idea was that? Spock’s?”

The comment irritated Kirk as he disliked his decisions being questioned. “It was mine,” he said firmly. McCoy didn’t need to know he had chosen to do it as a favor to Spock when he reported over a third of the sensor readings were coming back garbled and unusable.

Spock turned in his chair, drawing Kirk’s attention to him. “Doctor. As I explained in yesterday’s briefing, Mutara-class nebulae contain high levels of static discharge and ionized gases that render starship shields and sensors inoperable and—”

“Which is precisely why—” McCoy tried to cut in.

“—as a result StarFleet is eager to gain a greater understanding of the phenomenon,” Spock continued as though the doctor hadn’t spoken, “in order to design more robust systems that will ensure ships are not left vulnerable and open to attack when passing through such celestial bodies. Given this fact, diminishing the distance between the ship and the nebula in order to facilitate more accurate and comprehensible sensor read-outs was a logical command decision.”

“Logical?” McCoy spat, then looked at Kirk. “And what about our safety, Jim? You can’t tell me it isn’t a risk.”

Kirk felt another flash of irritation, as the doctor’s comment was borderline insubordination. “Your concern is noted, Doctor,” he said emphatically and watched as McCoy’s eyes widened and then his posture changed as he consciously let go of the tension he was holding.

Satisfied that McCoy had backed down, Kirk explained, “The proviso to the course change, was that long-range scans within a three parsec radius had to show no potentially hostile ships. You’ll be relieved to hear there’s absolutely nothing out there.”

McCoy scowled. “How do you know the accuracy of the long-range scans for sure, if that thing messes up the sensors?”

“It’s fine, Bones. Trust me. Besides,” Kirk smiled, “didn’t you just say we could do with a little action?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock turn back to his station and felt relieved the two of them didn’t start one of their rows on the bridge. Neither did Kirk want to have to remind the doctor again of his place, so he deftly changed the subject with a smile. “Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

McCoy crossed his arms and smiled back, but there was an edge to it, and a steely glint in his eyes that made Kirk immediately wary. “Well now Captain,” he drawled, “bridge crew quarterly check-ups are due. I’ve scheduled yours for tomorrow at 14:00 – I checked your diary and what do you know? You’re free!” McCoy’s smile widened. “So just send me an acknowledgement when you get the time.”

“Right.” Kirk disliked the physicals more than inactivity, mostly because McCoy never failed to get on his back about his diet. There was another aspect, too, which unnerved him, and that was the knowledge that as CMO, McCoy ultimately had the power to relieve him of his command. He knew McCoy would never do such a thing lightly and would need Spock’s agreement, but even so…

McCoy bounced on his toes with what, Kirk thought with dismay, was a distinctly smug look on his face, recognizing his victory for what it was; they both knew there was no way he could claim he was too busy. “If you’re not doing anything tonight, Jim, want to meet for dinner?”

Kirk’s eyes flicked unconsciously to Spock, who he’d barely seen outside of shift time for the past week thanks to the nebula project. “Sure Bones, I’m free.”

As the lift doors closed on the doctor, Kirk sat back in his seat, feeling it mold to the contours of his body. His gaze was once again pulled to the science station as he reflected that it wasn’t just the fact that with Spock being so caught up in his research he was left with more free time than usual, he actively missed Spock’s company.

While dinner with the doctor at least gave him something to look forward to, he needed to take an edge off the restlessness he was beginning to feel. A hard work-out in the gym would do it. Turning back to his compslate, he checked his schedule, smiling inwardly when it showed he was free at the end of his shift. Glancing at the bridge chrono, there was a little over five hours to go, so with a quiet sigh, he began to work through the long list of reports and requisition requests from his department heads.

It was clear from his in-box that his senior team were spending the ‘down time’, while they were en route to their next destination, catching up on a backlog of paperwork. Although their efforts were laudable, he found his administrative duties tedious, not helped by the fact Spock was currently too busy working on his project to share some of the load. This wasn’t what he came to space for – he much preferred the excitement of missions when he got to do something _interesting_.

As he stifled a yawn, he felt a slight breeze on his face. Surprised, as he hadn’t heard the turbolift doors open, he glanced over his left shoulder to see if McCoy had returned, and frowned when it was obvious no-one had entered the bridge. Just as he was concluding the anomaly must be due to a minor issue with the life-support system, a space-vessel materialized from no-where, without warning, directly in their path.

A flood of adrenaline propelled Kirk from his seat in surprise. “Raise shields, full intensity!”

He wasn’t taking any chances, even though they were inside Federation space, as a ship suddenly appearing like that could well have hostile intentions. He stared at the completely spherical vessel on the viewscreen, brightly colored lights pulsing counter-clockwise around its circumference. He’d been working in space for almost fifteen years and still he found himself occasionally surprised by the things they came across.

“Shields activated, Captain,” the helmsman reported.

On the bridge, the previously relaxed atmosphere had gone. Everyone was sitting alert in their seats, waiting to see what would happen next. Without taking his eyes from the viewscreen, Kirk sat back down. “Mr. Spock, report.”

“A spaceship of unknown origin, Captain, matching our heading and speed.”

“Helm, standby for evasive action and—”

“Sir,” Spock cut in from over his shoulder. “They have a tractor beam on us and are pulling us towards the nebula.”

Kirk knew they’d be sitting ducks if they went too close. “Let’s try to pull free of the tractor beam. Sulu, reverse, full thrust.” Kirk hit the red alert button. “Uhura, cancel the klaxon on the bridge and put me on ship-wide.”

“Aye sir,” came the comm. officer’s calm voice behind him. “You’re ship-wide now, Captain.”

“This is the captain. All hands to battle stations. Repeat, all hands to battle stations.”

Seconds later, Scott stepped out of the turbolift and went straight to his station, his speed of arrival telling Kirk the engineer must have preempted the call. Kirk firmly believed the efficiency of his crew in potentially crisis situations was one of the main reasons the _Enterprise_ had survived this long.

He sat for a tense minute gripping the arms of his chair as the sound of the engines increased and the ship began to judder.

Sulu turned to him, a sheen of sweat on his face. “Their tractor beam is too powerful, sir. Engines are overloading.”

Kirk swung his seat counterclockwise. “Scotty, I need more power.”

“You’ve already got everything she has, sir.”

“Captain,” Spock said, before Kirk could respond to his engineer’s statement, “if we don’t break loose of this tractor beam in seventy three point four seconds, we will be within the boundary of influence of the nebula and sensors and shields will become inoperable.”

Kirk could feel his body buzzing, adrenaline pumping. “All engines stop.”

As Sulu executed the order, an almost eerie silence fell over the bridge.

Kirk was too wired to sit and jumping down from his chair, he walked across to the engineering station and gripped the rail. “If we can’t pull away from the beam, we need to find a way to break it. Get on it, Scotty.”

“Aye aye, sir. I’ll need to go to engineering for that.”

“Go. Uhura, ship to ship.”

“Hailing frequencies open, sir.”

Walking back to his chair, he sat and took a deep, calming breath. “This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship _Enterprise_. We convey greetings. Please identify yourselves.” 

There was a pause before Uhura confirmed, “No response on any channels, sir.”

“Thirty seconds to the nebula boundary,” Spock added, peering into the scanner.

Kirk turned to his first officer, realizing Spock hadn’t provided his usual data update. “What do you have on their ship, Spock?” he prompted. “Any idea who they are?”

“Negative sir. The vessel appears to be from a civilization unknown to the Federation.”

“‘Appears to be’, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked, trying to keep exasperation out of his voice. “Why so imprecise?”

Spock stood upright and turned round to face him. “That is because according to the sensors, Captain, the vessel does not exist.”

Kirk frowned. “Explain.”

“Since its appearance, our sensors have been unable to detect the vessel’s presence. It is apparently employing a highly sophisticated sensor-blocking device. As a result, I am unable to determine its distance, size or mass. Given this, I would estimate a ninety four point seven percent probability that the sole reason we are able see them on the viewscreen is because they allow it.”

Kirk gazed at the ship as it hung against the backdrop of the nebula, which now filled the viewscreen. “They want us to see them? Why?”

“Unknown, sir.”

“Deflector shields down sir,” Sulu said, his voice tight with tension.

Kirk turned to Spock for confirmation, his science officer bent again over the sensor shroud. “We have entered the boundary of the nebula,” he confirmed. “Sensors are now inoperative.”

Kirk felt a knot in his stomach at their predicament, staring at the ship that had them in their thrall, as if by doing so, he might be able to divine more about them. “The way they just appeared,” he said to Spock, “they must have some sort of cloaking device.” He knew from personal experience that the Romulans had them, and rumors were the Klingons may, too. “You’re certain the ship doesn’t belong to anyone we know?”

“It is highly unlikely, Captain. The vessel is dissimilar to any we have encountered before; furthermore, its design is not a logical progression from those already documented in the Memory Alpha database. Its sensor-blocking capability and powerful tractor beam suggest a race more technologically advanced than any known to us.”

Kirk was so attuned to Spock, that a slight tensing of his frame out of the corner of his eye was all he needed to know something was amiss and swiveled his chair towards him.

“Captain,” Spock said before he could ask. “We are being invaded by strong sensor probes everywhere.”

Again the puzzling imprecision. “Everywhere?” Kirk echoed with a frown.

“Our electrical systems and our engines,” Spock clarified.

Kirk stood up and stared at the ship on the screen. “How can that be? How is it their sensors are working, when ours aren’t?”

“Unknown…and Captain,” Spock added, standing up and turning to face Kirk, “they have just scanned the entirety of the ship’s computers.”

Kirk shook his head. “That shouldn’t be possible,” he murmured to himself in dismay. He was appalled at how vulnerable they now were, knowing it was likely the aliens – whoever they were – were carrying out hostile reconnaissance as a precursor to an attack. He turned again to Spock. “How can they read so many zettabytes of data that quickly? And how did they get past the firewall and all the extra security measures you put in place?”

“Sir, I estimate the disparity in the level of technology between them and us to be approximately akin to the _Enterprise_ visiting early twentieth century Earth.”

Their recent mission through _The Guardian_ ,Spock desperately trying to build a working computer in an era when tools and components were not much more advanced than ‘stone knives and bear-skins’. Is that how primitive these aliens saw them?

Horrified at the technological disparity and its implications, Kirk turned once more towards the screen. Realizing he’d unconsciously gripped the arms of his chair, he forced his fingers to relax. “Ship to ship.” He waited a beat for Uhura to set it up. “This is Captain Kirk of the _U.S.S._ _Enterprise_. You are a vessel of unknown origin in Federation space. We therefore request that you identify yourself and state your intention.”

Between one heart-beat and the next, Kirk was no longer on the bridge. Gone were the primary colors and the familiar noises, replaced by an almost dazzlingly white room that had no discernible boundary between its walls, floor and ceiling, and a silence so profound he could hear his own heart hammering wildly in his chest.

Spinning round, he quickly took in the fact there were no doors or windows. Whatever teleport mechanism had brought him here was unlike any transporter he’d ever used, which served to reinforce Spock’s assertion that whoever these aliens were, they had technologically far superior to any civilization known to the Federation. It didn’t bode well for the _Enterprise_ and her crew, especially now her captain was no longer on the ship.

“Why did you bring me here?” he demanded angrily. “Return me to my ship immediately.”

A moment after the words left his lips, Kirk’s head was wracked with such excruciating pain, as though it were being crushed in a vice, that he fell to his knees, clutching his head and almost losing consciousness. It lasted only a few seconds, but the experience left him sweating and nauseous.

Opening his eyes, he staggered to his feet, his stomach roiling uneasily, forcing him to swallow hard against rising bile. “Under Federation Law, abducting and attacking a StarFleet officer is considered an act of aggression,” he said angrily. “I demand that you return me to my ship.”

Once again, almost as soon as he’d finished talking the pain returned, though not as severe as the first time, and it lasted for a shorter period.

“What do you want with me?” he shouted, again having to swallow against the nausea.

_We regret causing you discomfort,_ came a voice that he realized originated inside his head. _It was not our intention._

__His instinct was to spin around to look for the voice’s source. He’d melded with Spock on occasion in the line of duty, but this felt qualitatively different – more invasive, perhaps because permission wasn’t given.

_We meant you no harm. You are the first corporeal being in this dimension with whom we have attempted contact. We were required to adjust for the lower frequency of your brainwaves.  
_  
Kirk wanted them out of his head and with effort, clamped down on his anger. He needed to know more about them so he could better assess his situation and that of his ship, aware that his every thought was likely being monitored.

“Who are you?”

_We are…_ The answer wasn’t a word he could understand, but he suddenly felt a breeze across his face – the same as the one earlier on the bridge – and an almost sickly sweet taste in his mouth.

_We are unable to translate who we are as it is an unknown concept to you.  
_  
“So tell me why you’re here. What’s your intention?”

_We wish to experience one of your stories so that we may learn about your species._  
  
Stories? Kirk wondered what they could mean. “Send me back and we can talk.”

_We assure you we will return you, unharmed, after you give us your cooperation. When you have given us your story._

__“Well, you won’t get my willing cooperation by abducting me, so we’re at an impasse.”

A moment later, Kirk’s head was wracked with such searing pain he couldn’t hear his own scream.

And then the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk’s eyes snapped open. He was immediately aware of two things: that he was lying on his bed in his own cabin, and his throat was so parched he could barely swallow. Relief flooded through him at having been returned, unharmed. This wasn’t the first time he’d had contact with beings with potentially unlimited abilities and on each occasion, he’d felt almost helpless, like a baby in a den of wolves. They were always vulnerable traveling through largely uncharted space.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he felt thankful to be back on his ship; but then doubts crept into his mind, banishing his short-lived equanimity. What if the unknown aliens were still probing his mind and had recreated his quarters from his memory? After all, his abductors had made it clear they wouldn’t return him until he cooperated with them – although, he conceded, they’d maybe gotten what they wanted after he’d passed out. What he’d need to do is to look for signs of anything that didn’t appear authentic. The first thing that sprung to mind was the fact they sent him back to his cabin, rather than the bridge from where they had snatched him.

Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, he stood, feeling no residual effects from his recent experience – another indication that all might not be what it appeared. After synthesizing a glass of water which he drank thirstily, he spent several minutes looking around his quarters to see if anything didn’t look ‘right’, but as far as he could tell, everything seemed in order.

Next stop: the bridge, he decided. He was just short of the door sensor when it slid open and his first officer strode in.

“Jim!” Spock walked up to him and grasped his upper arms, his face unguarded. There was a look of utter relief there, his eyes betraying his worry.

Kirk regarded Spock with suspicion since his behavior was so atypical, touching him and displaying so much emotion. “How did you know I was back?” he asked quietly.

“I set the sensors to alert me should you be returned. Are you harmed?” The question was accompanied by a visual survey.

Since Spock never initiated physical contact, Kirk was hyper-aware of the heat of the firm hands that enveloped his biceps. “No, I’m fine,” he said.

A small smile played about Spock’s lips, drawing Kirk’s gaze. “I am most gratified to hear it.”

Much as a part of Kirk was enjoying this unprecedented spectacle, he was all too aware that what Spock _should_ be doing was asking questions about the beings who had taken him and what had transpired during his abduction. The fact that he didn’t ask set off more alarm bells for him.

If Spock wasn’t going to bring the subject up, then he would. “The aliens?” he prompted.

“Immediately after sensors picked up your reappearance, Captain, the _Enterprise_ was released from the alien ship’s tractor beam. They then vanished in the same manner in which they arrived, without trace. Before I left the bridge to find you, I ordered a course that will take us out of the influence of the nebula and back on our original course. I estimate we should now be free from the effects of the nebula.”

Kirk nodded his understanding, pretty well convinced by this point that what he was experiencing wasn’t reality. For one, how did the sensors pick up his return when they were still within the nebula’s area of influence? He let the matter drop for now, more interested in what Spock would have to say about the aliens. “Did you get anything on them?”

“During your absence, I attempted to recalibrate the sensors in order to scan their ship and gain information of your whereabouts. However all telemetry received was meaningless. The device used to block our scanners was most efficient.”

Throughout the ‘debrief’, Spock continued to hold him by his arms, which was totally out of character. Kirk believed he had a fool-proof way to test whether this was his Spock or not by doing something that was equally out of character, something he’d thought about doing far more times than he’d ever admit to anyone. If he got a bad reaction, he could always blame it on the after-effects of his abduction. Leaning forward, he lifted his head with a smile and pressed his lips to Spock’s.

His first officer pulled back suddenly as though Kirk’s lips were a brand that had burned him. For a moment he regarded his captain with wide, surprised eyes, eyebrows in his hairline, and then suddenly the hot hands holding Kirk slid around his back and he was pulled into a tight embrace as hot lips descended on his. Now completely convinced this was an illusion, Kirk seized the opportunity to just go with it and get as much out of it as he could, as Spock’s delectable mouth opened to admit his tongue, the kiss hard and rough, all heat and spice and something intrinsically Spock. The contact sent a euphoric thrill through him, the intimacy lighting him up and making him hard. Spock tasted of the herbal tea he favored, bitter and spicy, hot like an exotic sun, and it was everything he could have wished for.

The kiss morphed into something softer, the sensual exploration sending rational thought skittering into a fathomless abyss. As he slid his tongue against Spock’s, he took pleasure from the sensation of the hot Vulcan tongue gently probing his mouth. So caught up in the exquisite sensations, Kirk didn’t spare a thought for what the aliens might make of this fantasy. Running his hands down to grip the ass he’d been surreptitiously gazing at for so long, he was about to escalate matters further when his door buzzed.

The two of them sprung apart, Kirk feeling dazed. He cleared his throat. “Come.”

The door hadn’t fully opened when McCoy stalked in, darting eyes taking in the scene for a moment, clearly unsure what he’d walked in on before his face settled into a scowl. “Dammit, Jim! How long have you been back?” Not waiting for an answer, he switched on his tricorder and aimed it at Kirk.

“A couple of minutes,” Kirk answered in a voice that was far more calm than he felt.

McCoy squinted at the read-out. “Heart-rate and respiration elevated, heightened levels of phenylethylamine, dopamine, and norepinephrine.” McCoy gave him an odd look. “Otherwise, everything else looks pretty normal.” Then Kirk’s answer seemed to filter through and his eyes widened in surprise. “A couple of _minutes_? Were you planning on telling anyone you were back?”

Since this was an illusion, Kirk realized he could play with it to see where it went. Folding his arms casually, he smiled at the doctor. “Eventually.”

McCoy looked up from his tricorder and snapping it shut, glared at him. “Eventually? What in blue blazes did they do to you?”

Kirk shrugged, unconcerned. “I don’t remember.”

McCoy glared at Kirk and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Sickbay, now!”

“Why?”

“Why?” The doctor repeated, sounding completely exasperated. “Because apparently you’ve forgotten you were kidnapped by aliens and when they finally returned you—”

“ _Finally_? How long was I gone?”

“Six hours, give or take. The walking computer beside you could probably give you the time to the nearest hundredth of a second.”

Kirk felt a jolt of shock at that. His first fleeting thought was that it would explain why he was so thirsty upon waking, before he recalled this wasn’t reality. This situation was really messing with his head, which he supposed was maybe part of the exercise. A small voice told him to hold off revealing his own speculation on events.

“And when they finally return you,” McCoy repeated exaggeratedly, “do you do what I would expect and go straight to the bridge and generally behave in a way that – oh, I don’t know – a _starship Captain_ should? No. Instead, I find you in your quarters chatting with Spock. And don’t try and tell me you’re behaving _normally_ , Jim, because you aren’t. I need to find out what the hell they did to you. And you,” he added, pointing at Spock and giving him ‘the eye’, “I’ll be speaking to later, because what the hell’s _your_ excuse? Why didn’t you let anyone know he’d been returned?”

When Spock remained silent, he turned back to the captain. “Well, Jim?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you follow operational procedures?”

A perverse part of Kirk was quite enjoying seeing McCoy get so riled. “You got me there, Bones,” he smiled, holding out his arms in a gesture of peace. “Let’s compromise – I’ll come down to sickbay in an hour or so.” He had been enjoying this illusion with Spock and really wasn’t in a hurry to end it.

The doctor frowned. “You’re coming _now_.”

This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to – time to impose some authority. “I’m the captain. I’ll come down when I’m ready to, _Doctor_.”

McCoy took a step towards Kirk, their height difference becoming more pronounced, his blue eyes flashing in anger. “And I’m the Chief Medical Officer and if I have a concern about your ability to command, then you do as I say, now. _Captain_.”

Kirk ignored McCoy’s tone, which if this were real, would be setting off warning bells that would likely have him reluctantly backing down. “I don’t care,” he ventured.

McCoy’s eyes widened in shock. “What did they do to you while they had you? Drop you on your head?”

“Very funny, Bones.”

“I’m serious. I have some grave concerns about your behavior since your return.”

He had no idea what the aliens wanted beyond their need for ‘a story’ but clearly they were making this as close to reality as possible – with the notable exception of Spock. Perhaps it would be easier to just go along with it – he certainly didn’t want to find out how realistic this illusion could be if McCoy chose to remove him from duty, or worse, in another departure from reality, threw him in the brig.

The trouble was, he really didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay and finish what he’d started. “Spock?”

Kirk held Spock’s gaze, sure he could see regret in the dark depths. “Unfortunately, Captain, the doctor is correct. Regulation requires you undergo a thorough examination.”

McCoy’s eyes widened, Kirk wondering if the doctor was shocked at Spock actually agreeing with him for once. The moment didn’t last long. “Sickbay, now,” he gruffly ordered again and stepped out of the way to let Kirk lead.

~*~

Kirk lay in a private cubicle staring tensely at the tiled ceiling as McCoy calibrated his instruments for the first of what Kirk suspected would be many tests. Even though this was all just a construct in his head, it was elaborate and convincing enough to trigger his negative associations with sickbay.

This illusion, he decided, was on a par with the one created by the Talosians, with the greatest single difference being that this time he was aware of its unreal nature. It was this aspect that particularly bothered him, because try as he might, he couldn’t seem to change it so that he could be back in his quarters with Spock, because that, at least, had been pleasant. Clearly the aliens were allowing him no control on how events unfolded and given the direction they had steered it in so far, with Spock behaving so out of character, he couldn’t begin to guess what they were looking for from it.

Five hours later, Kirk sat on the edge of the med-bed, his feet not reaching the deck, just wanting to be out of there. After having test after test inflicted on him with only a brief respite for a light dinner, he concluded that McCoy, at least, was behaving annoyingly realistically. The doctor seemed convinced the aliens had found a way to alter his brain to change his behavior, a theory Kirk valiantly tried to downplay.

McCoy was having none of it as he stood in front of him, his chin jutting out belligerently, arms folded over his chest. “You were gone _six hours_ , Jim. For all we know, you could be a walking time bomb, primed to ‘go off’ at some point in the future. What if this is a precursor to an invasion and when it begins, your programming clicks in and you use the Enterprise to side with them?”

“You’re sounding like the conspiracy theorists, Bones. Aside from the fact you’ve found absolutely no evidence that I’ve been ‘reprogrammed’, do you really think if I ordered Sulu to fire at friendly targets he would carry it out unquestioningly, because I’m the captain?”

The tension seemed to leech out of McCoy as he shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t know what to think, Jim. We’ve been through enough missions that defy belief that I’m prepared to keep my mind completely open. But as you say, I’ve done every test I can think of on you and it’s come up blank.”

Given how accurate McCoy’s behavior seemed, Kirk had no intention of sharing his belief about the situation. “Have you found anything to worry about outside of the behavior you witnessed in my quarters?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean you’re in the clear, just that I haven’t figured it out yet.”

That meant McCoy wasn’t done with his prodding and poking. Kirk sighed and decided to negotiate. “With all these tests you’ve done, can I at least forego my check-up?”

McCoy raised an eyebrow in a fair impression of Spock. “No you can’t, since the focus is completely different. But I’m feeling generous, so I’ll postpone it to tomorrow. Let’s talk in my office.”

Kirk muttered a sarcastic ‘thanks’ as he jumped down from the bed and trailed after the doctor, feeling tired and drained. In his office, McCoy opened a cabinet and pulled out a decanter and two glasses which he banged down on his desk. Pouring out two glasses of bourbon, three fingers in each, he pushed one towards Kirk. The lines of time and experience etched on the doctor’s face looked deeper, his concern for Kirk, and his inability to find any answers, obviously weighing heavily on him.

Kirk picked up the proffered glass and held it up in a mock salute. “Drinking on duty, Bones?” he teased with a smile, wanting to lighten the mood.

“My shift ended when you got off the examination table, and as for you, you’re not back on duty until I say so.” Kirk’s smile faltered. “So, we’ve been through all the official stuff,” McCoy continued. “Now I want you to talk to me as your friend. What’s going on with you? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

The real McCoy knew him well and his keen perceptiveness meant little ever got past him. Given this version of the doctor was such an excellent representation, odds were if he acted out of character again, most likely McCoy would act _in_ character.

Kirk smiled, hoping to disarm the doctor. “There’s nothing going on, Bones. I’ve already told you when you came into my quarters, Spock was updating me on what had happened while I was away.” Which was true. Kirk lifted the glass and taking a sniff of the smoky liquid, took a sip, feeling its heat, like hot honey, spread across his tongue and down and his throat.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t go straight to the bridge right after you materialized back here. That’s not like you, Jim.”

He’d have to stretch the truth to give a plausible reason. “I don’t know how long it took me to come around – when they sent me back, I was unconscious.”

McCoy leaned forward, looking alarmed. “And you didn’t see fit to tell me this until _now_?”

“I told you I blacked out while I was there. When I woke in my quarters, I felt fine and was just about to head to the bridge when Spock arrived, and you not long after.”

McCoy leaned back in his chair and silently regarded Kirk. “I still think there’s something you’re not telling me, but I’m going to let this go for now.” He picked up his glass and knocked back the last of his drink, then leaned forward. “Don’t think this is the last of it, Jim.”

Kirk felt inward relief but was careful not to show it. “So, what now?” he prompted.

“I can’t go on gut feelings, and since I’ve got nothing on you, I can’t keep you off duty, much as I want to. I’m going to file a report with the surgeon general and see what she has to say.”

Kirk knocked back the remainder of the bourbon, the fiery liquid making him feel warm as he stood up. “So I’m free to go?” He tried not to appear too elated, not wanting to irritate his friend further.

McCoy picked up the decanter and poured himself another drink. “Yep. I’ll sign you back on duty tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

After his earlier fatigue, Kirk suddenly felt wide awake. “Can you sign me back on now?”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“You know the regs, Bones. While I’m on medical leave, I can’t even access my computer without your say so. With Spock tied up on this latest astrophysics project, I’ve got a backlog of paperwork which didn’t get done today. I’m not that tired, so I want to play catch-up before I turn in.”

“Damn workaholic. Fine. I’ll note in the report that you returned back to duty at…” he glanced at the chrono, “…twenty two thirty.”

Behind him, the door slid open and turning, his eyes met Spock’s as he stood framed by the doorway like some intimidating sentinel there to protect him from any further inquisition by the doctor. The sight of the Vulcan caused his heart to speed up as he recalled the feeling of Spock’s mouth on his. He would have thought the timing uncanny, except as he had to continually remind himself, this wasn’t real.

“Have you finished with the captain?” Spock asked McCoy, his tone perfunctory.

“I have. But I want a word with _you_.”

Spock’s posture was stiff, his hands clasped behind his back. “You appear preoccupied with the fact that I failed to inform you immediately of the captain’s return. I was briefing him on events that had occurred during his abduction, having ascertained that he was uninjured—”

“—You don’t get to do a medical diagnosis—”

“—The captain was clearly—”

“—You didn’t have any means of properly assessing that—” McCoy countered, standing up so abruptly his chair almost fell back.

“—Had the captain required immediate medical assistance, I would have summoned you—”

“Gentlemen, enough!” Kirk interrupted before it escalated. He’d seen them have plenty of heated debates and his policy whenever they had one while off-duty was to let them get on with it: he learned early on that neither of them appreciated him intervening. But McCoy, clearly frustrated at not being able to find anything wrong with him, looked like he was spoiling for a fight and this version of Spock seemed far more confrontational than the real one.

McCoy’s mouth firmed into a thin line as he stared at the Vulcan, and Spock stared back.

“Fine,” McCoy said, sitting back down with a huff and picking up his glass, knocked the amber liquid back in one, bringing a pink tinge to his cheeks.

Kirk clapped his hands. “Right, Spock. Let’s go mind the store.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose. “The store, Captain?”

Kirk grinned. “In this instance, it means go to the bridge.”

“Ah, an Earth idiom. As you wish, sir.”

McCoy scowled and jabbed a finger in the air at Kirk. “You said you just wanted to do paperwork.”

“Alright,” Kirk smiled. “Not the bridge, then. My quarters.”

Standing out of the way, Spock let Kirk through and then followed him to the turbolift.

“Deck five,” Kirk said as the doors closed. He was very aware of Spock standing much closer to him than he usually did, their arms brushing.

“Sir, if the doctor has signed you fit for duty, it is well within your purview should you wish to visit the bridge.”

Kirk grinned up at him. “It was a kind of…code. I didn’t necessarily want to go to the bridge – I was hoping we could go back to my quarters and finish what we started earlier.” He was very aware of a degree of boldness he certainly wouldn’t have had, had this been reality. The thought of what was likely to happen next had him already half-hard.

Spock’s eyebrow rose. “I see.”

Beyond Spock’s apparent surprise, Kirk found himself unable to read the Vulcan’s expression and wondered whether Spock had had time to think about what had happened and changed his mind. “That is, if you want to,” he added, more hesitantly.

A moment later, the doors opened on their deck and an engineer Kirk recognized snapped to attention on seeing them. “Lt. Karaheem,” Kirk acknowledged easily as they stepped out.

The engineer smiled, clearly pleased the captain remembered his name. “Sirs.”

“As you were,” Kirk said more affably than he felt, since Spock had yet to answer his tentative question.

As they began to walk towards his quarters, he heard the doors slide shut behind him, the lift departing and taking Karaheem with it.

“Jim, I _do_ want,” Spock said, finally, his voice deep and gravely.

The affirmation sent a thrill through Kirk, and as he smiled up at the Vulcan, he made the decision that he was just going to go with this and not remind himself it wasn’t real. After all, how often would he get the chance to enact a long-held fantasy with all the detail of reality? He just hoped, after all this was over, that he’d still have the memory.

Punching the code to his door, he preceded Spock into his quarters, contemplating how they could get things going again. He was just wondering if he should take the initiative or wait to see if Spock wanted to lead, when he was firmly taken by the shoulders, turned and kissed, all in one smooth move, the tight embrace almost strong enough to hurt. Spock claimed his mouth as though his life depended on kissing Kirk, the enthusiastic and very welcome assault causing a flood of lust that made Kirk immediately hard.

He let out a small hum of appreciation, licking at the wet underside of Spock’s tongue, exploring the hot mouth as he slid his arms around Spock’s narrow waist. Having been sure it was a look of regret Spock had given him at McCoy’s interruption earlier, what had gotten him through McCoy’s barrage of tests was hoping there’d be more later. It was this – this closeness, this intimacy – that he had yearned for so long.

Clutching the blue shirt in his fists, he anchored Spock to him, feeling engulfed by the heat of the hotter-than-Human body pressed against him. With a slight shift in stance, he was not only able to press his erection against Spock’s hip, but he could feel Spock’s against his own, sending a carnal thrill zipping through him like electricity along a wire. He’d had more than a few fantasies imagining what Spock’s cock looked like, and couldn’t wait to see it.

Spock broke off the kiss to trail warm lips along the curve of his jaw, then sucked and licked a path down his neck as his large hands roved down to grab Kirk’s ass and squeeze. Spock’s lack of hesitation, his proprietary air, was a major turn-on.

“God, yes,” Kirk whispered, and in an audacious move, reached down between them to cup Spock through his trousers, the feel of his hot hard length making him groan with lust. In answer to the bold contact, Spock bit down at the juncture of his neck and shoulder sending a wave of pleasure/pain searing through him, the unexpected action making him even harder. Palming Spock’s shaft, he was impressed by its generous proportions. 

As Spock licked where he had just bitten, Kirk shifted his stance again so he could get to the fastening on the Vulcan’s trousers, deftly undoing it. His heart pounding in anticipation, he slipped his hand beneath the tight band of his briefs, Spock gasping at the contact as Kirk slowly slid his fingers down the smooth, hard shaft. “So hot,” Kirk murmured as he gently explored the alien sex. Spock effectively silenced him by leaning down to take his mouth in another breath-taking kiss.

Kirk used both hands to work Spock’s trousers and pants partway down his thighs, and pulling away, glanced down. For a moment he just stared in delight at the column curving sinfully upward which, other than the verdant coloring and the double-ridged head, looked much like his own.

“God Spock, it’s…you’re beautiful,” he said reverently and wrapped his fist around it, enjoying the heft of it against his hand. Spock shuddered at the contact, and Kirk looked up from one incredible sight to another to see the Vulcan’s eyes closed, his mouth part open, looking wanton.

Kirk reached up with his free hand to cup Spock’s cheek, feeling the Vulcan lean into it, opening his eyes as he did so. They were the color of chocolate, dark and luscious, with a flame in them that burned, unmistakably, with want.

“Let’s get out of our uniforms and take this to the bed,” he suggested, and pulled his shirt over his head to emphasize the point. 

Spock apparently didn’t need further coaxing, and Kirk watched him closely as he bent to remove his boots, socks, trousers and tunic, dropping each item carelessly on the deck. No matter what Spock did, he did it with the grace and economy of a great feline. ‘My own wildcat,’ he thought, and smiled as he ordered the lights to low. When he finally removed his briefs, the intensity of Spock’s gaze as the Vulcan glanced down to check him out, took his breath away. His own eyes swept over Spock’s form: slim, muscular, deceptively powerful – and his for the taking.

Turning his back on the sight, he walked over to the narrow bunk and pulling the cover back, lay down on the cool, crisp linen revealed. When he glanced up, Spock was standing at the divider, his long fingers splayed over the mesh. The look of lust on Spock’s face as his dark eyes surveyed him in frank appraisal sent a shiver of anticipation through him and he hardened even more. He, too, loved being able to openly look at Spock’s lithe body, his cock jutting out, long and thick and green.

“Spock?”

His question seemed to spur Spock into action, crossing the short distance to lie down on top of him, wrapping himself around Kirk like a hot blanket, his weight pressing Kirk into the mattress. As Spock’s alien heat surrounded him where they touched from chest to ankles, the sensation of their cocks trapped between made him moan, and cupping Spock’s ass, he arched up so their erections would slide together, hot and heavy, pre-come making them slippery.

“Spock,” Kirk gasped, the friction their movements creating sending waves of pleasure radiating out along his nerves. Threading his fingers through Spock’s silky hair, he pulled him down for more kisses.

They were just as electrifying as the first one they’d shared earlier that day, and though Kirk wanted to focus purely on the taste and feel of Spock’s mouth, he opened his eyes so he would have a visual memory, taking in the sight of the Vulcan, eyes closed, kissing him passionately. The vision sent a jolt through him, and he arched up harder in response, reveling in the weight and heat and solidity of the body above him as they undulated together, his hands cupping and kneading the tight, muscular ass he’d so long admired.

Just as he was losing himself in the sensations, Spock pulled back, bracing his body on his elbows, and looked down at him, his eyes dark and hooded. 

“Jim,” he said quietly, his voice impossibly deep. “ _Ashayam_.”

He didn’t know the meaning of the word, but the sound was like a benediction, and the look of wonder on Spock’s face brought forth emotions to the surface Kirk had never properly allowed, emotions that went well beyond friendship and affection. He’d had many bed partners, most of them transient in his life, a few who had stayed awhile, but none for whom he had this depth of feeling.

“You are more beautiful than any being I have ever known,” Spock said quietly, “and I am drawn to you as a planet is to its star. For many months I have resisted, but I find I no longer have the strength in me to continue to do so.”

The words, so poetic, made Kirk flush with pleasure as he smiled up at his lover. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you,” he confessed. Any further speech was cut off when Spock leaned down, the Vulcan’s lips finding his, kissing deeply and frantically as they undulated together, their heavy breathing, gasps and moans filling the silence of his cabin.

Kirk moved his right hand, sliding his index finger into Spock’s crack, moving down until his fingertip pressed against the tight knot of muscle. He was already a long way gone, and all it took was touching Spock in such an intimate place, finding it so deeply erotic his climax crashed over him without warning, his body arching up and shuddering as every nerve-ending screamed. Gasping into Spock’s open mouth, he came like a freight train. A second later, above him, Spock went rigid, his hole spasming against Kirk’s finger as he shot pulse after pulse of hot liquid between them.

Spock rolled off him and Kirk had to prise open his eyes to take in the sight of Spock looking utterly debauched, semen glistening on his stomach, a green flush to his cheeks, his hair mussed.

Getting his breath back, Kirk smiled and reached out, but Spock abruptly pulled further back, and then suddenly sitting up, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

Alarmed at the hasty retreat, Kirk sat up. “Spock? What’s wrong?”

The Vulcan began to gather his uniform from where it had been carelessly dropped on the floor. “I must leave.”

“Wait, are you alright?”

With his uniform bunched in one hand and his boots in the other, Spock paused at the door to their shared bathroom. “I require a period of meditation.” With that, he was gone.

As the door to his bathroom closed, Kirk felt a mixture of disappointment and concern. Then it struck him: he’d been so completely caught up in what had just taken place, it was only now he remembered that it was all just an illusion, a construct put in his mind by the aliens who held him.

Or was it?

Doubt crept into his mind. He realized the beings who’d abducted him were powerful telepaths, but could they really create something so incredibly realistic? So much of what he’d experienced since his return had felt so _real_. His mind cast back to the Talosians again, remembering just how realistic all _that_ had been. This time, though, there was one glaring mistake in the aliens’ construct of Spock, who was far more as Kirk wished he could be, than he was in actual reality.

He clenched his fists as anger and resentment washed over him at their manipulation, at their violation of his mind; for tapping into his deepest, most private fantasies for whatever overarching purpose they had.

“You have no right to do this,” he said aloud, “this holding me against my will. Return me to my ship and then we can talk about how we can help you with the stories you want.”

All he heard in return, breaking the resounding silence of his cabin, was the quiet hum of the warp drive like a song of solace. Looking down at their combined come, he grabbed an undershirt from the floor and wiped angrily at it before throwing it across the room in disgust. The events of the day had completely drained him, and as exhaustion pulled at him, he called the lights to off. His last thought as sleep drew him into its dark depths was to wonder if he’d wake up back in the white room.


	3. Chapter 3

It was – apparently – in his own bed that Kirk awoke the next morning, a full hour before his alarm ordinarily went off. Throwing the cover off, he padded to the head and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Flakes of dry semen on his stomach and chest, and the bruise from the bite on his shoulder, told him that this was apparently a continuation of the day before, which sent his mood tumbling. Spectacular sex with Spock aside, it wasn’t as if he could even have fun with this illusion. Given McCoy’s reactions the previous day when he’d been irreverent with the doctor, his CMO would probably take him off duty and confine him to quarters, which he’d hate. He had no choice but to carry on as if this were reality for the time-being, with the first order of the day being to locate the hand-held regenerator he kept in his quarters and fix the bruising before McCoy saw it. After that, still smelling of Spock and sex, he ignored the sonics and instead, indulged in a hot shower.

Kirk decided to keep things simple and to follow all his usual routines. After checking the ship’s status on his desk terminal, he went down to the main mess hall and was disappointed not to see Spock at their usual table. If the Vulcan were following type, then it might have something to do with what had happened between them the previous night. But then again, even before his abduction, Spock hadn’t been to breakfast for over a week, presumably taking it down in the labs where he was working at least part of every night on the data from the nebula before starting his bridge shift. He frequently did that on major projects, taking advantage of his Vulcan physiological requirement for less sleep than his Human shipmates.

With an hour to go before shift changeover, the mess was largely empty, though as he glanced around, he saw a few familiar faces. Sex always left him ravenous, and since anything he ate was going to be zero calories, he piled his breakfast plate high without the least feeling of guilt.

He joined Sulu and Chekov who were having a lively debate, the navigator trying to convince the helmsman that martial arts had been invented in Russia. After initial greetings, Kirk tuned out their discussion, starting on his breakfast with the gusto of someone who hadn’t eaten a good meal in days.

He’d gotten part way through it when Chekov asked, “Keptin, how are you feeling after your captivity yesterday?”

Kirk smiled easily. “I’m fine. To be honest, I think I was more traumatized by McCoy’s tests.”

The two bridge crew laughed and then Sulu leaned forward. “The doctor can be one scary—” He stopped midsentence when a shadow fell across their table, and when all the occupants of the table looked up, it was to see a scowling doctor glaring down at them.

“Scary _what,_ Mr. Sulu?” McCoy asked, banging a mug of black coffee on the table and sitting down with an audible groan.

“Uh…one scary guy,” Sulu quickly recovered, then smiled adding, “especially when you’ve got a loaded hypo in your hand.”

McCoy looked at him, apparently unconvinced. “I was going to wait to hear what you were really going to say, but I needed to sit down quick.”

Kirk gave the doctor a grin. “Morning Bones. Feeling a little delicate?”

McCoy looked rough and it made him wonder how much bourbon he’d had the previous night after he and Spock left – it was rare he drank alone.

The doctor picked up his mug and took a sip of the hot, dark liquid. “Don’t push it, Jim. I can make those check-ups real easy…or real hard.” He eyed Kirk’s plate. “You’re not going to eat all that, are you?”

Kirk glanced down at his food, then looked up, smiling at McCoy in the hope of brazening it out. “I was planning on skipping lunch.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow. “With a portion that size, you’ll need to skip dinner as well to stay within your calorific limit.”

Kirk was struck once again by the realism of all these interactions. No doubt the aliens had seen all this in his mind from his many conflicts with the doctor over his diet. For a moment he considered pointing out none of this was real so the calories wouldn’t count anyway, but decided against it, not in the mood to see what the doctor would make of that. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the door open and glancing across the mess, watched as Spock entered. Just seeing the Vulcan looking cool and professional after seeing him come apart in his arms the previous night, sent his heart-rate rocketing.

Worried the all-too-perceptive doctor might read something on his face, he tore his gaze away. Focusing on dipping a sausage link into the pool of maple syrup on the side of his plate, he looked up and grinned at McCoy, “Why don’t you take a detox, Bones?” then popped the sausage in his mouth.

Chekov nodded his agreement. “I tink you vould feel a lot better, sair. You don’t look so good.”

“I have,” McCoy scowled, “but you know yourself the detox shot only goes so far, and sitting here watching Jim eat that,” he waved his hand towards Kirk’s still half-full plate, “isn’t helping.”

Spock reached their table. “Captain.”

Kirk looked up, his body tingling at Spock’s proximity. “Morning Spock,” he smiled and tilted his head towards the empty seat beyond the doctor. “Care to join us?”

“Negative sir.”

Kirk hid his disappointment. His F.O. must have come here for a reason. “Something I can do for you?”

“May I speak with you, sir?”

Kirk could hear the words ‘in private’ as though he had spoken them aloud. The Vulcan looked tense and Kirk was glad McCoy was too hungover to notice, because ordinarily little got by him. He felt convinced that Spock was about to tell him that last night was a one-off and they couldn’t do it again, and felt like something was squeezing his heart.

“Now?” he asked, looking down at the remainder of his breakfast.

“If it is not inconvenient, sir.” Spock interrupting his breakfast for a matter that wasn’t urgent ship’s business was yet another example of how out of character he was.

Kirk sighed internally and stood up. “Very well. My office?”

Spock nodded. “That is acceptable.”

“Don’t forget your quarterly check-up,” McCoy said as Kirk turned to leave. “I’ll call you later to remind you.”

“Okay, but I’ll be down in engineering all morning with Scotty, so make it after lunch.”

“I thought you were going to skip lunch,” McCoy said, saluting Kirk with his mug. Kirk threw him a dirty look and turned to leave the mess with Spock.

“14:00 hours – I’ve scheduled it in your diary,” McCoy called out.

Kirk waved his acknowledgement.

As they walked along the curved corridor towards the turbolift, he found himself wondering if whatever Spock was going to talk to him about was going to be worse than him just telling him yesterday was a mistake; maybe he was going to ask for a transfer. That thought alarmed him. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

Standing in front of the elevator door, waiting for its arrival, Spock stared straight ahead, which didn’t fill Kirk with reassurance. When it arrived, they stepped inside.

Spock waited for the doors to close before speaking, carefully staring ahead over Kirk’s head, rather than looking directly at him. “As you are not due on duty for thirty eight point six seven minutes, Captain,” he began stiffly, “I wish to suggest we _go mind the store_.”

Kirk grinned, feeling relieved and elated, his shoulders dropping as he let go of the tension he was holding. “As suggestions go, it’s definitely one of your better ones.”

Spock finally looked down, his eyes dark and intense. A part of Kirk acknowledged that this horny Vulcan was straight out of his wildest fantasies, but given the realism of what he’d experienced so far, he intended to allow himself to be completely consumed by the moment, to enjoy it to its fullest, and not to think beyond what he was about to experience.

They had barely gotten inside his quarters when Spock pressed him up against the bulkhead and captured his mouth, sliding his tongue inside, possessively, the noise of their wet kisses ringing out in the silence of the room. His next surprise was to find the Vulcan already hard when Spock pressed his pelvis against his own, causing Kirk to groan into Spock’s open mouth. Unless he could produce erections instantaneously, Spock must have had it when they were in the elevator. The image was a delicious one.

Kirk reveled in the feel of Spock’s arms wrapped around him, the heat of the Vulcan’s skin where his hands had slipped beneath his tunic, the taste of him as they kissed, the sounds of their breathing becoming harsh and uneven.

There was one thing he hadn’t gotten around to the previous night which he wanted to rectify. Pulling away from the kiss, he slipped to his knees, his trousers tightening almost uncomfortably around his burgeoning erection in the process.

“Jim,” Spock said quietly, longer fingers carding through his hair as his shaking hands unfastened Spock’s trousers, sliding them down lightly haired, muscled thighs. 

Mesmerized by the bulge in the black briefs, he inhaled the clean, spicy scent, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in it. He capitulated to his wish, rubbing his mouth along the cotton-clad length, feeling it jump and flare beneath his lips. When he reached the tip, he opened his mouth, clamping it over the dome and sucking, eliciting a loud gasp from Spock in the process. But it wasn’t enough, he wanted more, to properly taste it, so leaning back, he pulled at the briefs until Spock’s long, green cock sprung free.

“It’s gorgeous,” he smiled in approval and glanced up. Spock was looking down at him, his slitted eyes filled with want. “I’d like to suck you,” Kirk added. “Can I?”

“Yes.” The word was little more than a hiss as Spock closed his eyes, as though watching Kirk would be too much.

Kirk leaned forward and took an experimental lick at the drop of liquid crystal that had appeared at the small slit. The contact brought a harsh gasp and a sudden shudder from Spock. Instead of salt, there was a sharp, bitter flavor, like the after-taste of dark chocolate, mingled with the musk of the Vulcan’s arousal. It was a heady combination. Opening his mouth, he slid his lips over the tip, moving downward over the first, then the second ridge until he was partway down the length. Spock was hard, hot and perfect for his mouth. Pausing to accommodate the bulk, he breathed in through his nose and swallowed once to help suppress his gag reflex.

Kirk felt Spock’s fingers wrap further around his head, gently guiding him down the last two inches, the simple but telling gesture sending a thrill through him. By the time he reached the base he had to push at the front of his trousers with one hand in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his own arousal. It wasn’t enough, so he paused to undo the fastening and pulled his own cock free with an audible moan.

As he slowly worked himself, his mouth slid up the length of Spock’s shaft, coating it in a glistening trail of saliva, then sucked and licked as he reached the crown. Above him, Spock groaned and holding Kirk’s head to him, he began to thrust into his mouth, Kirk adding a graze of teeth here, a surprise swallow there.

Even kneeling in what could be an act of submission, Kirk felt a heady sense of power at having this hold on his calm, composed first officer.

He closed his eyes to better focus on the heat of the Vulcan shaft, the bitter taste of the viscous fluid that seeped from the head, the spicy aroma that was uniquely Spock.

Just as he was getting into a rhythm, Spock abruptly pulled away, his cock stiffly pointing at the ceiling. “I am close, and unable to control,” he confessed, his voice quiet and impossibly deep.

Kirk sat back on his haunches and looked up at the Vulcan standing rigidly, his eyes tightly closed. “Spock.” No response. “Spock, look at me.”

Spock slowly opened his eyes and looked down, capturing Kirk’s gaze.

“It’s okay to be out of control – that’s what good sex is about. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I find it…flattering, that I can do that to you.”

Spock momentarily closed his eyes and opened them again. “Jim I…I wish to serve you also.”

Kirk grinned and after pushing himself up, strode towards his bed, shedding his clothes as he went. A quick glance at his desk chrono showed they had another twenty one minutes before the start of shift. 

“Let’s suck each other,” Kirk suggested, reaching out to take Spock’s hand. “Lie down on the bed.”

It took some arranging on the narrow bunk for them both to be in a position to comfortably reach each other, but after a minute, he found himself facing Spock’s engorged shaft, still glistening with his saliva.

With a smile, he leaned forward, and gripped the firm flesh. He licked along the underside from the base up to where the shaft dipped and flared twice at the head. Swirling his tongue around the spongy crown, he lapped up the liquid gathered at the tip, before sucking in the head, feeling it throb, hot and bitter against his tongue. Spock shuddered and gasped, and when Kirk looked up, their eyes met, Spock’s dark with lust and unfathomable.

Kirk watched as Spock leaned forward and grasping him firmly by his hips, took the length of his cock into his mouth in one long movement. Slowly Spock sucked him down to the hilt until he hit the back of the Vulcan’s throat, and then slowly slid back up the length. The incredible sight of Spock sucking his cock, combined with the electric sensations that sparked from his genitals to his gut and outward, made Kirk moan with lust. Distracted, he dropped his head to Spock’s slender thigh to savor the intense sensations as the Vulcan began to work him enthusiastically.

A not-so-subtle thrust of his hips from Spock reminded Kirk this wasn’t supposed to be one-sided, and pushing up to lean on one arm, he first sucked just the head into mouth, lapping up more of the pre-come that had gathered at the tip, before working his way down the mouth-watering length. The sheer eroticism of the act, and being surrounded by Spock’s unique scent, excited him beyond belief: he couldn’t remember the last time he was this turned-on.

Spock effectively took control of his movement, holding him in position in a bruising grip as he went to town on Kirk’s cock. It didn’t take long to feel the stirrings of climax deep in his balls. Having no idea if Spock would be okay with swallowing, he pulled off the thick, verdant shaft with a loud pop.

“Spock, I’m going to come!” he warned. The Vulcan paid him no heed and the small part of Kirk that was still capable of rational thought considered what to do – not easy when his brain felt like it had melted – since he was worried Spock hadn’t understood the slang term.

“Spock, I’m about to ejaculate,” he tried instead. Saying it so clinically made him wince and after all that, it still made no difference, except that Spock seemed to be sucking even harder. Kirk dropped his head to Spock’s thigh, trying valiantly to hold it off; but with the Vulcan applying himself with single-minded focus, he was unable to hold back the tide of his orgasm. With a roar it surged through him, carrying him to new heights of pleasure in a gushing release, as he spent himself in Spock’s mouth, the Vulcan eagerly swallowing all he had to give.

As he was still coming down from his high, Spock twisted and none too subtly guided his cock to Kirk’s mouth. Kirk obligingly opened it and as the feelings of post-coital lassitude quickly dissipated, Spock begun to fuck his mouth in earnest, his hips rocking back and forth, accompanied by breathless urgent gasps. The erotic sounds spurred Kirk on, sucking avidly. It wasn’t long before the staccato rhythm of the Vulcan’s hips became erratic until, with a single thrust and a deep moan, Spock came in his mouth in five distinct pulses.

Kirk closed his eyes to savor the moment, only to find himself being dislodged from his resting position by Spock getting off the bed.

“We’ve still got ten minutes,” Kirk said after checking the time, watching as Spock gathered up his clothes in a mirror of his actions the previous night.

“I am aware. I…” he paused, standing stiffly as he stared at the bathroom door ahead of him, as if he wanted nothing more than to escape. “Thank you, Jim,” he said and then moving forward to activate the sensor, he disappeared inside.

Looking down, Kirk could see discoloration on his hips which he knew would bruise, but he had no time to do anything now – he’d have to return to his quarters after his meeting with Scotty to fix them prior to his check up with his CMO. While acknowledging this was all an illusion, McCoy’s reactions felt all too real and he really didn’t want to have to explain how he got such tell-tale bruising to the doctor.

He could just make out the hum of sonics from the bathroom he shared with Spock, so while he waited, he picked up his clothing, telling himself that since they were clean on that morning, they were still good to wear. By the time he’d put them in a neat pile on his bed, the bathroom was free and he had five minutes to get ready.

Kirk made it down to engineering with a minute to spare. After the Scot assured him the tractor beam had done no lasting damage to the engines, they went over a proposed upgrade to the impulse engines.

“It’ll deliver almost a three percent saving in fuel whenever we’re in orbit, sir. And the beauty of it is,” he added, tapping the screen to display the impulse engine blueprint, “I can do the upgrade without any engine downtime, while we’re in warp.”

Over several cups of coffee and donuts (which Kirk refused to feel bad about), he spent two hours going over the data with his chief engineer. Ordinarily he would ask for a _lot_ more detail and data, as well as discussing it thoroughly with Spock and, if necessary, the upper echelons at StarFleet before giving a project the green light. As a commander, he never wanted a situation where his ship was stranded and an easy target to be preyed upon by any opportunistic non Federation-aligned aliens. Now, however, there was no need. “Okay, go ahead with the modification, Scotty, and let me know how it goes.”

The engineer’s surprise was evident. “Sir?”

Kirk smiled. “Something wrong?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me to show you the usual models and simulations, Captain, like you usually do?”

Kirk’s smile widened. ”I trust you.”

Scotty beamed a smile back, like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Right sir. Thank you! You’ll no’ be sorry!”

Before heading to the bridge to spend what was left of the morning, Kirk detoured to his quarters, deciding to kill two birds with one stone: he would sort out the bruises Spock had left, and while he was there, he needed the head after all the coffee he’d drunk. He was about to call the turbolift when he spotted the entrance to a jeffries tube. It had been a long time since he’d been on a drill that required him to go between floors just using an access ladder. With the engineering deck being nine below senior officers’ quarters, a bit of exercise wouldn’t go amiss. With a grin, he got in and began climbing, and was pleased at how quickly he reached his floor, barely winded.

“Oh, Captain. Got a minute?” McCoy asked as he emerged. If the doctor thought it odd that he hadn’t used the turbolift, he didn’t say so.

“A minute?” He was all too aware how long McCoy’s ‘minutes’ could be.

“It's Spock. Have you noticed anything strange about him?”

Kirk had no intention of giving anything away. “No, nothing in particular. Why?”

“Well, it's nothing I can pinpoint without an examination, but he's become increasingly restive. If he were not a Vulcan, I'd almost say nervous. And for another thing, he's avoiding food. I checked and he hasn't eaten at all in three days.”

Kirk nodded, recalling that he hadn’t seen Spock eat for several days either. On the other hand, Spock was perfectly capable of going without sleep for days without any adverse effects. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that he could also do without food. “That just sounds like Mr. Spock in one of his contemplative phases.”

“Miss Chapel,” McCoy called as she approached the door to Spock’s quarters, carrying a tray.

Coming from the opposite direction, she hadn’t noticed them and flushed at getting ‘caught’. “Doctor McCoy!”

“What's this?” McCoy asked, eyeing the tray. “Oh! Vulcan plomeek soup, and I'll bet you made it too,” he grinned. “You never give up hoping, do you?”

Kirk had heard from McCoy that Chapel held a torch for Spock, but had never seen it first hand as she was always highly professional when working in sickbay.

The nurse looked flustered at getting the attention of two of the ship’s senior officers. “Well, Mister Spock hasn't been eating, Doctor, and I just happened to notice.”

McCoy looked highly amused by the situation. “It's all right. Carry on, Miss Chapel.”

The diversion over, Kirk’s full bladder was making itself felt. “Bones, I'm a busy man.”

“Jim, when I suggested to Spock that it was time for his routine check-up, your logical, unemotional first officer turned to me and said, ‘You will cease to pry into my personal matters, Doctor, or I shall certainly break your neck.’”

That caught Kirk’s attention. “Spock said that?”

Up to now, as far as he could tell, only he had been witness to Spock’s uncharacteristic behavior. He wondered what the aliens were up to escalating it so that his CMO was about to be involved, because even with the issues McCoy and Spock had with each other, while he’d heard the occasional snarky retort, he’d never heard Spock say anything beyond the blandest of comments, and never anything that had a violent connotation.

As if the situation couldn’t get more surreal, Spock’s voice could clearly be heard carrying through the closed door to his quarters as he demanded, “What is this?”

Before Kirk had time to say something to McCoy, Chapel rapidly exited with a cry, the bowl of soup following her through the open door to hit the opposite wall.

“Poking and prying!” Spock shouted. “If I want anything from you, I'll ask for it!”

Kirk stared at the open door as Spock appeared.

“Captain, I should like to request a leave of absence on my home planet. On our present course you can divert to Vulcan with a loss of but two point eight light days.”

Kirk was taken aback not just by the request, but by the tone of Spock’s voice – no sign at all of the intimacy they’d shared earlier. It was like Spock was gaining multiple personalities which he found more than unnerving. Spock was like a rock to him, always dependable and cool-headed no matter the situation.

Very aware of McCoy standing beside him, he asked the question he knew the doctor would expect him to. “Spock, what the devil is this all about?”

The Vulcan looked visibly annoyed. “I have made my request, Captain. All I require from you is that you answer it. Yes or no.”

Spock’s answer was clear insubordination, his behavior unprecedented. Kirk quickly considered his options. Continuing this discussion in the corridor was out of the question, with members of the crew passing by. But if he suggested they talk in his quarters, he knew McCoy would want to join him, which meant he wouldn’t be able to ask the questions he wanted to.

“Bones, let me talk to him; try and find out what’s going on.”

Kirk held fast under the steady blue gaze, McCoy’s mouth a thin line of disapproval. After several seconds, he nodded his agreement. “I’m still going to do that check-up on him – if necessary I’ll make it a medical order. And don’t think this lets you off of yours this afternoon, either.”

Inside Spock’s quarters it was hot – even hotter than it usually was. “All right, Spock, let's have it.”

“It is undignified for a woman to play servant to a man who is not hers.”

 _What?_ Kirk thought, the answer completely unexpected. Though, to be fair, the whole situation was bizarre. “I'm more interested in your request for shore leave. In all the years—” 

“You have my request, Captain,” Spock cut in uncharacteristically. “Will you grant it or not?”

Kirk was taken aback trying to figure out what was going on. Every detail of his ship, down to the last bolt was correct, yet when the aliens plucked Spock out of his mind, they got it so wrong. Why? It must have been deliberate. He decided to plow on, acting as if this was real, to see where it took them. “In all the years that I've known you,” he repeated more assertively, “you've never asked for a leave of any sort. In fact, you've refused them. Why now?”

“Captain, surely I have enough leave time accumulated.”

That sounded more reasonable. “Agreed, but that isn't the question, is it? If there's a problem of some sort, illness in the family…”

“No. Nothing of that nature, Captain.”

“Then since we're headed for Altair Six, and since the shore facilities there are excellent—”

“No! I must…” He paused and seemed to collect himself. “I wish to take my leave on Vulcan.”

“Spock, I'm asking you. What's wrong?” He wanted to get closer to Spock but the ‘do-not-touch’ vibes were so strong, he didn’t dare.

“I need rest. I'm asking you to accept that answer.”

Kirk stared at Spock in consideration. He knew there was more to this, but if this illusory Vulcan was anything like the real one, then he had no chance of getting a straight answer out of him.

Kirk walked over to Spock’s comm. unit. “Bridge. Helm.”

“Yes, Captain?” came Sulu.

“Alter course to Vulcan. Increase speed to warp four.”

“Aye, sir.”

Kirk flicked the switch.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Kirk looked at him. Spock seemed so closed off, he could tell any intimate overture would not be welcome, so he smiled reassuringly. “I suppose most of us overlook the fact that even Vulcans aren't indestructible.”

~*~

If Kirk thought the plomeek soup incident was weird, he had to revise his definition of the word as the day played out, with Spock behaving more and more out of character. It was like his friend was breaking down in front of his eyes and he honestly had no idea what to do about it. It wasn’t like he could shout at the aliens to halt the program – he’d tried that to no avail.

By the time Spock explained about pon farr, Kirk was feeling completely off-balance. In truth, the concept seemed so fantastical that he couldn’t take it seriously, making light of it while at the same time wondering how the aliens had come up with that idea and what they thought they would achieve by it. After all, if all male Vulcans were walking around like time-bombs, he surely would have heard about it before now. But somehow, Spock’s demeanor and his quiet dignity caused doubt to creep in and he began to feel conflicted and off-balance, which led to him feeling more and more uncertain about everything.

What if this wasn’t an illusion? What if they really had returned him and it just happened that Spock was going through some crazy biological imperative that the Vulcans had been successful in covering up? There was enough secrecy surrounding them for it to be possible – maybe that’s why there _was_ so much secrecy. After all, as Spock said, having their logic stripped from them, reverting to animalistic instincts, was something he could easily imagine being a source of shame for such rational, controlled people.

The other thing for him to consider was that if this was all about Spock’s need to mate, it would go a long way to explaining their sexual encounters – his decision to use a kiss to test the authenticity of the situation could have been bad timing. Though it didn’t explain why Spock chose him over anyone else, and specifically him over a woman, given Spock was clear he was returning to take a _wife_. If all this was real, then he wanted to believe Spock’s choice was because his feelings were in some way returned, or at the very least, that Spock trusted him over anyone else on the ship. Either way, the thought filled him with warmth at a time when he was feeling so disconcerted by everything else.

Yet even as he began to have these doubts about the illusion, as he started to believe this all could be real, another cynical part of him wondered if this was some kind of challenge by the aliens, to see what he would do.

Kirk sought command in part because he liked to be in control – he thrived on it. Here, in a world where he didn’t know for sure what was real and what was illusion, the carpet was continually being ripped from under him and he both hated and resented it. Worse, there was no-one he could talk to about it.

In the end, the crunch came when Komack refused him permission to divert. He was, by now, so conflicted, he didn’t feel he could take a gamble on being wrong, and potentially endanger Spock’s life. If this did turn out to be real, there was no question in his mind how far he’d go to save Spock: he was willing to risk his career to save the one he…

 _Loved._  
  
Finally acknowledging his feelings for Spock was a watershed moment for him. In the past, he’d felt lust, infatuation and affection in varying degrees with different partners. But he’d never experienced this deep-seated commitment to someone, this yearning, this overarching feeling that was consuming him, that felt as necessary to him as air. Somehow, against all the odds, he’d opened his heart to the quiet, unassuming Vulcan he had spent the last eighteen months getting to know, just when Spock was talking about ‘taking a wife’. His timing was lousy.

As he lay in bed, he realized this entire situation was really beginning to screw with his sanity. If he’d felt calmer, he might have pondered the nature of reality, but right now, all he could drum up was feelings of anger at how he was potentially being manipulated. “Haven’t you gotten enough from me already?” he said aloud into his empty cabin. “What more do you need? I’ve given you my cooperation. When will you free me and return me to my crew?”

The lack of any response was frustrating. Punching his pillow, he turned onto his side and closed his eyes. It had been a hectic day what with all the changes of course. Closing his eyes, it was surprising how quickly sleep overtook him.

~*~

Over the next three days, Kirk went along with events. If it were real, then he was saving Spock’s life, and if wasn’t, he hoped his cooperation would buy him his – and his ship’s – freedom. Either way, it was a potential win-win. He had given himself a mental time-limit of one week, because by then Spock would be out of danger and he could then reassess the situation. If he believed it was all still an illusion, he intended to refuse to go any further until they ceased the illusion and he was allowed to communicate with his crew. After all, if he _had_ been gone all that time, they’d likely be frantic over his disappearance.

To his disappointment, during their journey to Vulcan, there hadn’t been any further intimacy, or hint of a wish for it. It had been one thing to fantasize sex with Spock, quite another to experience it – even if it did turn out to be an illusion, since it had felt so real. The trouble was, judging by the way Spock had no memory of ordering an alteration of course back to Vulcan, and his erratic behavior since then, Kirk was beginning to wonder if he even remembered their encounters.

Spock became distant and reserved, confining himself to quarters. Kirk couldn’t blame him: that ‘veneer of civilization’ had become increasingly eroded. To someone who had once admitted he was ashamed at his feelings of friendship, he could barely begin to imagine how much Spock’s variable ability to control was affecting him. In the final three days of their voyage, he saw Spock only once, when he explained the ceremony of koon-ut-kal-if-fee and its roots in Vulcan history. Even that much had to be dragged out of him.

~*~

The day they arrived at Vulcan brought him more surprises.

Finishing up breakfast with McCoy, Kirk said, “I want you with me to check how he is, Bones.”

“I’ve been monitoring him remotely, Jim. His hormonal imbalance is gradually worsening, and he’s still not eating much, but he’s otherwise in decent condition.”

Buzzing for entry at his quarters, Kirk had no idea what state Spock would be in given how he had been a few days earlier, but when the door slid open, far from looking like he was at death’s door, his first officer appeared refreshed and remarkably ‘normal’. So much so, it was almost anti-climactic – being in the vicinity of Vulcan clearly had some kind of a calming influence over him.

“Spock.”

“Captain. Doctor,” the Vulcan acknowledged.

Kirk smiled. “We’ll be in orbit in half an hour. Do you feel well enough to come to the bridge?”

“I do.” He stepped out and paused, waiting for Kirk to take the lead.

“Good,” Kirk said, turning towards the turbolift. “The nearer to normality things are, the fewer tongues will wag.”

“I find Human’s predilection for gossip, illogical.”

“It’s not illogical,” McCoy protested. “It’s been proven to strengthen social ties, spread social norms, as well as help avoid risky personal and professional relationships.”

“Really?” Spock said, a clear note of skepticism in his voice.

Kirk grinned – if he wanted normality, then this certainly felt like it.

“Why you—”

“Bones!” Kirk interrupted before he started one of his rants. The doctor scowled but said no more as they approached the turbolift. Once inside, he ordered it to the bridge.

“It is obvious that you have surmised my problem, Doctor,” Spock said after a pause. “My compliments on your insight. Captain, there is a thing that happens to Vulcans at this time. Almost an insanity, which you would no doubt find distasteful.”

Kirk considered all the times Spock had seen him at less than his best. “Will I? You've been most patient with my kinds of madness.”

“Then would you beam down to the planet's surface and stand with me? There is a brief ceremony.”

Kirk was more taken aback by the request, than anything. If this pon farr thing were true, he couldn’t imagine Vulcans allowing outsiders to witness it, considering all the secrecy that surrounded it. “Is it permitted?”

“It is my right. By tradition, the male is accompanied by his closest friends.”

After Kirk thanked Spock for the invitation, there was a beat, before the Vulcan added, “I also request McCoy accompany me.”

McCoy looked delighted at the request. “I shall be honored, sir.”

The rest of the ride was taken in silence, while Kirk wrestled with his inner feelings. On the one hand, getting Spock there had saved his life, but on the other, he was about to lose the one person he’d ever fallen in love with.

Within minutes of that conversation, Kirk was shocked to discover Spock had a wife – and a beautiful one, at that, he acknowledged. 

_Hot as Vulcan._ He’d been there several times before, and each time the intense, dry heat, like opening a blast furnace, had staggered him. It was like not being able to remember the pain of a toothache until you get it again. Beaming down to the surface, by the time they had walked to the ceremonial ground, he was already overheated and sweating. It wasn’t just from the higher temperature, but also from the exertion of the stronger gravity pulling on him with every step coupled with the thin air that was leaving him feeling mildly hypoxic.

Kirk had never much liked surprises. After having just learned about T’Pring, finding himself face to face with the legendary T’Pau came as another surprise, unaware that Spock was so well-connected. His mood was not improved, finding he didn’t much care for the matriarch’s attitude, especially when she sprung the biggest surprise of all on him by failing to explain T’Pring’s challenge was to the death.

As soon as the fight began, Kirk realized he was in trouble when Spock lunged and caught him with the lirpa, slicing across his chest with its razor-sharp edge. Looking down, he could see blood, but in the middle of the adrenaline-fueled combat, he couldn’t feel anything other than a sense of shock.

At the end of the first round, his limbs felt heavy and his chest burned as he struggled to get much-needed oxygen to his muscles.

McCoy came over, looking stressed and upset. “You're going to have to kill him, Jim.”

Kirk stared at the doctor, stunned by his words. “Kill Spock? That's not what I came to Vulcan for, is it?” The very thought appalled him. When McCoy administered the hypo in his arm, he felt a slight buzzing although it could also be the effects of hypoxia, his tingling fingers further evidence. “What's that?”

“It's a tri-ox compound,” McCoy explained. “It'll help you breathe. Now be careful.”

A moment after T’Pau declared, “The ahn woon.”

He heard a whistling sound and suddenly his legs were taken out from under him, his training ensuring he didn’t hurt himself as he hit the ground. He somehow managed to escape despite the fact the tri-ox didn’t seem to be helping yet, but it wasn’t enough to best Spock.

When he felt the ahn-woon tighten around his neck, he scrabbled at it, trying desperately to loosen it, fearing for his life. His throat hurt at the constriction and his lungs were burning, desperate for oxygen. The world began to narrow until it was like looking down a tunnel at Spock’s face. The Vulcan’s eyes were blank; not a flicker of recognition in them.

And then the world went dark.

~*~

Kirk took in a heaving gasp, pulling oxygen into his lungs, his eyes flying open. The red sands and blood-colored sky of Vulcan were gone, replaced be sterile white.

The relief of waking up in sickbay was short-lived, as he looked around and realized he was on the alien ship, where he was lying on his back on a narrow cot. Looking down, the injury from the lirpa across his chest was gone, his shirt undamaged.

It really all _had_ been just an illusion.

From one moment to the next all his frustration, confusion and concern from the past week collided to fill him with a white-hot fury as he exploded from the bed.

“Why did you put me through all that?” he shouted.

 _We wished to better understand the sentient life that is so prevalent in this dimension, to learn your stories._  
  
“And you think taking me against my will and invading my mind will achieve that?” he spat. All he could do was address the air, feeling a deep well of anger and resentment at the beings he was addressing.

 _Now you have given us your story, you will be returned to your people unharmed._  
  
The statement took the wind out of his sails, the storm of his righteous anger evaporating. A part of him felt elated as his forthcoming freedom, but another part remained exasperated. “Why couldn’t you just ask if you wanted to learn about us? We would have cooperated – in fact we would have welcomed it. Our mission is to make contact with new lifeforms and civilizations.”

 _It is not yet time for us to reveal ourselves to your people. All memory of your encounter with us will be gone when you are returned._  
  
The statement was like a punch in the chest, leaving him reeling. “And what have you accomplished? What was the point?”

 _As corporeal beings, you exist in a physical universe in a way we cannot. You live your life separated from one another as discrete beings, yet you have learned to co-exist and to collaborate with each other and with others alien to you. We have harvested stories from you and one other species and have learned much._  
  
Kirk’s blood went cold. There was only one other they were likely referring to, given the content of the illusion.

“Spock! What have you done with him?”

 _He is unharmed. Your story together intrigues us. While for much of the time you recognized the illusion, there came a point when there was sufficient doubt in your mind that you began to behave as you would have done, had the events been real. You risked your career for your friend and gave your life for him. You have a special emotion for him as he does for you, a higher emotion, a selfless one._  
  
_Love_ , Kirk thought. Spock _loves_ me? He held the thought close, knowing he was soon going to lose it. It made him angry that he’d been so thoroughly manipulated and worse, that they had violated Spock’s privacy. He turned that anger outwards.

“Spock is from a species which is telepathic, and so the sanctity of the mind is paramount. You had no right—”

 _We did nothing he did not allow. He chose to share that story with us._  
  
Kirk felt stunned. “You didn’t make the pon farr thing up?”

 _It is part of his heritage. This story you have shared will come to pass._  
  
Kirk frowned. “What do you mean it’ll come to pass? How can you know the future?”

 _We are multi-dimensional beings. Time as you experience it is merely another dimension for us to travel in. When we return you, it will be to a time before our encounter so that you will have no memory of it. But the events you experienced will happen very soon in your future._  
  
Kirk felt a moment of panic. “Spock’s going to kill me?”

 _In return for your story, we will give your friend, McCoy, a suggestion that could save you. Then it is up to him. We will now return you—_  
  
“Wait – what suggestion?”

 _Thank you for sharing your stories, Captain Kirk. We find ourselves intrigued by your species and will one day return. Farewell._  
  
Before he could ask again there was a flash of light…

And then the world went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Kirk sat up in his chair on the bridge, the clatter of the compslate hitting the floor waking him up. Had he really just nodded off on the bridge? It was an unforgiveable lapse – a first for him.

“Sir,” Sulu said, twisting round in his seat and holding the device out to him.

Kirk leaned forward, smiling at the helmsman as he took it back. “Butterfingers. Thanks.”

He took in a few long breaths to get some oxygen to his brain and glanced at the chrono – another hour and a half to shift’s end. Focusing diligently on the compslate, he continued to sign off reports until he’d gotten through them all.

Job done, he glancing around the bridge. Chekov and Sulu were leaning towards each other in quiet discussion over the latest innovations in astrogation, Uhura was monitoring incoming messages and Spock was bent over the sensor shroud, taking readings of the nearby nebula.

He’d seen very little of the Vulcan recently, the research apparently keeping him too busy for social pursuits outside of his shifts. He envied Spock having so much to do during this endless journey – all he had to look forward to was working through a backlog of paperwork, followed by a diplomatic function at the end of their journey to Altair VI. Unfortunately, from what he’d read from the dispatches Komack had sent, it was one that would more than likely be tedious and drag on far too long.

Kirk’s gaze swept down Spock’s back to surreptitiously check out his ass, an almost automatic action, he’d done it so often. Then, with an inaudible sigh, he turned back to his paperwork. Reports done, next: requisitions. Tapping the compslate for the next document, it was a request for parts from Scotty, ahead of a proposed impulse engine upgrade. He hit ‘pending’ and sent the engineer a note to arrange a meeting to go over his plans. That, at least, would give him something to look forward to – a few hours out of his day. Plus Scotty’s synthesizer made the best donuts.

The change of shift, when it finally came, took place quietly and efficiently and having handed over the conn, Kirk made his way to the turbolift, Spock joining him just before the doors shut. It had been a source of quiet pride for some time that while Spock maintained a greater personal space than most Humans, his first officer frequently stood as close to him as Kirk might to McCoy. What he was extremely aware of as the lift set off, was that Spock was physically touching him, arm to arm, the higher-than-Human temperature seeping through the layers of their uniform. Well, that was different.

“Still busy with the research, Spock?” he asked, to distract himself from the contact. “I’m missing our chess matches.”

“I regret I have not had the time, Captain. Your decision to alter course in order to obtain more accurate readings has been most beneficial, providing us with unprecedented quantitative and qualitative data on the phenomenon that will form the basis of a number of papers I and members of my team are researching. If you currently have no appointments, I am available to go over the preliminary report with you now.”

Kirk smiled. “I’m free. My quarters?”

“That would be satisfactory.”

On arrival at his cabin, as he programmed the synthesizer for a coffee and a Vulcan tea, he noticed Spock rearranging the chairs at his desk, placing them side-by-side, presumably so they could share the monitor. It surprised him as the shape of his desk and placement of the monitor enabled two people to share it easily while sitting on opposite sides, which was their usual arrangement.

Spock stood to one side, allowing him to sit on the seat nearest the bulkhead and it was only when the Vulcan sat down beside him, he realized how close the chairs were. Since getting closer to Spock was something he’d wanted for quite a while, he made no comment, enjoying sharing the Vulcan’s space.

Spock had only just gotten started, explaining the typical properties of a Mutara class nebula, when he stopped talking and unexpectedly ran his index and middle fingers over the back of Kirk’s hand.

Kirk’s head snapped up at the unexpected contact. “Spock?”

It was as though hearing his name galvanized Spock, jumping up from his seat and heading towards the door.

“Wait,” Kirk said as he leaped up after him. “Don’t go.”

Spock stopped, keeping his back to Kirk, perhaps not realizing it was a request, not an order.

Kirk went to stand in front of the Vulcan, whose head was bowed, as though in embarrassment. “Spock.” He took the Vulcan by the upper arms, feeling the heat of him searing into his palms. “Spock,” he repeated gently. “Talk to me. What was that about?”

“Jim,” he said quietly, staring at the floor.

Kirk swallowed, his heart beating fast. “Yes Spock, what it is?” he quietly asked.

“.…I…need…” he said hesitantly, not looking up.

Could it be that Spock wanted what he’d longed for, too? All the signs were there, but he needed to make sure before acting. “Spock, what do you need?” He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping he’d read the Vulcan right.

The words, when they came, were so quiet, Spock’s voice so deep, he had to strain to hear them. “I need you.”

Kirk felt a sense of elation, his chest constricting as he gently clasped Spock’s chin, lifting it so he could look into the Vulcan’s dark eyes.

“You have me. I’m yours.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Spock’s.

Spock pushed him against the bulkhead, biting his bottom lip hard, Kirk gasping at the unexpectedness of it, the pleasure/pain and intimacy of it making him harden as his hands cupped Spock’s ass and pulled the Vulcan tight against him.

Spock pulled back, touching Kirk’s lips with his fingers. “I have sensed for some time that you have a sexual interest in me.” Kirk felt himself flush at the statement – clearly he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought. “Jim, I want you also. It is _you_ who I want.” He gently brushed his fingers over Kirk’s face.

“I do want you too,” Kirk confessed, Spock’s wording puzzling him. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I—”

He stopped when he felt a moment of vertigo, an impression that they were falling into a pit of flames, the sound of bells all around them; and just as quickly, it was gone.

Spock had removed his fingers from Kirk’s face, leaning down. ”I need…” he repeated against Kirk’s lips before kissing him with a sense of urgency, his tongue sliding into Kirk’s mouth, meeting his own for the first time. The weird vision was gone in a haze of lust. It was like licking a low-voltage live wire, the current zipping through his body, every nerve tingling as Spock pressed him to the wall and began to rut against him, the Vulcan’s hard-on pressing against Kirk’s hip.

The admission inflamed Kirk and it took every ounce of his willpower to pull away of the kiss, framing Spock’s face with his hands as he looked up into the dark eyes. “Tell me what you need, Spock. What is it you want?”

Spock cast his gaze down. “I wish to…” He swallowed and said no more.

Kirk’s heart went out to him. Even now, when they knew each other so well, when they were on the verge of such intimacy, Spock was uncomfortable articulating his desires.

“What do you wish?” Kirk pushed. When he got no reply, he added, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Spock buried his face in Kirk’s neck. After a moment, he felt Spock expel a puff of hot air and then whisper, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he nodded and stepped out of the circle of the Vulcan’s arms. Staring at Spock, he crossed his arms and grabbing the hem of his shirt, pulled it over his head. Next he removed his boots and socks and then his trousers.

He’d always been a bit of an exhibitionist and enjoyed the way Spock’s eyes, dark with lust, swept over his body before zeroing in on where his cock strained against his black briefs. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband he slowly pulled them down, watching Spock’s eyes widen as his cock sprang free.

“Your turn,” he prompted.

He eagerly watched as Spock quickly and efficiently stripped, taking in the wide flat plains of his chest with a dusting of dark hair, his flat, almost concave stomach, with a black trail that ran down from his naval to disappear beneath the band of his gray briefs. Kirk’s gaze dropped to take in Spock’s arousal, smiling in approval at how well-endowed he obviously was. A spreading damp patch indicated he’d been in that state for some time. _Maybe when he was still on the bridge._ The thought sent an electric jolt through him, imagining his first officer quietly and unobtrusively working at his station _with a hard-on_.

The thought made him smile, which widened when Spock pulled down his briefs and his cock sprang free, thick, and green and glistening with pre-come.

Kirk paused, admiring the view that he’d so frequently imagined in his fantasies, though they paled into insignificance against the reality of Spock, naked in his quarters.

“Computer, lock the door.”

He paused a moment, smiling, undecided whether to drop to his knees and show Spock what giving great head looked like, or to get him to the bed and then show him. Meanwhile, Spock was still staring at Kirk’s cock like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Decision made, Kirk dropped to his knees. The aroma of Spock’s arousal was pungent, primitive and heady, Kirk inhaling the scent deeply, his mouth watering as his own cock hardened further. Leaning forward, he took in the head, hitting the roof of his mouth before sliding over his tongue, the taste of his pre-come bitter with a sharp back-taste. Looking up, seeing that familiar face looking down at him while he _sucked the Vulcan’s cock_ , the normally passive expression looking heated, his mouth open in a moue of desire, was an unbelievable turn-on.

“Jim,” Spock gasped. “Jim,” he repeated more quietly as Kirk swallowed and then began to move down the length of the shaft until his nose was being tickled by the soft, black hairs at the base of the verdant shaft.

Firm hands clamped around his head holding him in place as Spock slowly pistoned his hips. After three thrusts, they stuttered and Spock stopped.

“I…cannot control…” Spock whispered, pulling out.

“Bed,” Kirk said, rocking back onto his feet and standing.

He kept some lube in the box on the shelf above the bed, and rather than interrupt the flow of things later, he knelt on the bed to retrieve it, ready for when they needed it. Focused on the task, it came as a surprise when just as he reached out to the box, Spock grabbed his ass and pulling the cheeks apart, started to rim him.

“Fuck, Spock!” he gasped. “Oh god!”

Holding onto the shelf, the unexpected assault had him gritting his teeth against the pleasure, as Spock’s tongue circled the tight ring of muscle, making little stabs that had him gasping at the blissfully erotic sensations that were shooting through his body.

He twisted round, looking over his shoulder, to see Spock kneeling on the floor, his head bent to his task at Kirk’s ass. The sight nearly undid him. While he wanted to grab his cock which was aching for attention, he was determined to first get the lube from box before things progressed any further.

As waves of pleasure flowed through him, he finally managed to push the lid up and get his hand around the tube. What surprised him was Spock’s hand closing over his own, taking the tube from him.

“Spock…” he started to say, but was startled out of uttering anything more when the Vulcan pulled him further down the bed and lifted his hips, leaving him suddenly feeling very exposed with his ass in the air. Before he had time to react, Spock slipped in a slick finger and began to prepare him with long, slow, circling thrusts.

“Oh, Spock,” Kirk breathed, dropping his head onto his folded arms, shuddering as the Vulcan unerringly hit his sweet spot, teasing him mercilessly. As Spock helped his muscles relax, causing Kirk to moan in pleasure, a small part of him still capable of coherent thought wondered when he’d learned the technique – because he was damn good – as he’d assumed Spock was a virgin.

When Spock shifted position, kneeling behind him and replacing his fingers with something harder and more demanding, the last of any rational thought fled. Spock’s large, hot hands roved over his back, skimming his skin, and then gripped his hips as the Vulcan slid his cock along his crack, teasingly nudging at the entrance to his body.

“Fuck, yes,” Kirk hissed. “Do it.” He wanted it so badly, he could almost taste it and stretched his arm out to brace himself on the headboard in preparation. He felt Spock slowly slide into him, his heart hammering wildly as he was being stretched and filled. It had been so long since he last did this that it burned, making him break out in a sweat as he clenched his teeth and panted through the discomfort.

As Spock seated himself, fully joining their bodies, the Vulcan leaned over him, his lightly-haired chest rubbing Kirk’s back. It was a simple action, yet Kirk felt a thrill run through him at feeling Spock totally surrounding him, knowing the Vulcan’s normal avoidance of touch. Pulling almost all the way out, Spock thrust in hard and at the same time, bit down on Kirk’s shoulder, marking him, the shock of it making him gasp as the combination of pleasure and pain lit up his nerves.

He sensed an urgency from Spock as he quickly found a pace that suited them both, Spock pulling himself to a vertical position. Filled by Spock, Kirk bucked and writhed, pushing back hard to impale himself on each of Spock’s thrusts, wanting Spock to possess him fiercely and completely, feeling the utter rightness of their union at the very core of his being.

Kirk’s entire body was awash with delicious sensations, every one of his senses heightened: the taste of Spock still on his tongue, the musky scent and pheromones of two men in heat, the sounds of their bodies colliding in perfect rhythm, the feel of Spock’s hands, hot like a brand, gripping his hips and the cycles of pressure and release as the Vulcan thrust in a frenzied fervor. When he closed his eyes he could visualize the sexual energy pulsing between them.

Kirk let one hand go from the headboard to wrap around his cock, but quickly found Spock leaning over him again, and batting it away, the Vulcan’s grasp sent an electric bolt through him, making him groan at the exquisite pressure. With the change in Spock’s position, each thrust hit the spot that sent him in a delirious headlong rush towards climax. Just before he came, Spock’s other hand went to his face and suddenly he felt like he was surrounded by fire, the flames white-hot, as orgasm rocketed through him in a shattering release. It was made all the more intense by the Vulcan slamming into him for a final time and he felt a second, explosive orgasm ricochet through him.

Kirk collapsed panting onto the bed from the intensity of it all, and as he rolled over, he just caught sight of Spock, naked, carrying his clothing into the bathroom.

“Spock!” he called, sitting up abruptly, alarmed.

His only answer was the door shutting with a quiet hiss.

“Fuck.” He flopped back down and stared at the ceiling, grimacing as his movement dislodged what Spock had deposited deep into his gut, feeling a wet warmth slipping out of him. He touched his temple. “What the hell just happened?”

~*~

The following morning, Spock was already on the bridge when he arrived on shift. Alarm bells went off when far from there being any hint of acknowledgement of the intimacy they’d shared, Spock was being what Bones called ‘super-Vulcan’ as he stiffly stood up from the command chair, curtly greeted Kirk and went to his station. It was like he was having the Vulcan equivalent of a freak-out.

Kirk sighed. He’d have to catch Spock at the end of the shift and ask him what was going on. It was going to be a busy day spent mostly in engineering going over the proposed impulse engine upgrade plans, so he wouldn’t be around to monitor Spock.

If the alarm bells had rung that morning, he mentally upgraded them to klaxons when he witnessed Spock throwing a bowl of soup at the bulkhead. Whatever brought that episode on, he was forced to acknowledge that Spock was in trouble and maybe what had happened between them the day before wasn’t such a great idea.

It was only days later on Vulcan, when T’Pau calmly explained the combat was to the death that he realized that actually he was the one who was in trouble. He knew it for sure when Spock tightened the ahn woon around his neck.

And then the world went dark.

~*~

Kirk took in a heaving gasp, pulling oxygen into his lungs, his eyes flying open. The red sands and blood-colored sky of Vulcan were gone, replaced be sterile white.

Kirk blinked, a sense of déjà-vu sweeping over him, together with a rising panic.

A face appeared above him, familiar blue eyes looking down at him, concerned. “Welcome back to the land of the living Jim,” the doctor said sardonically.

“Bones,” Kirk gasped, his hand automatically flying up to his neck as the memory returned of Spock, throttling him with an ahn woon.

“Woah, don’t touch,” McCoy frowned. “I’m just about to use the dermal regenerator. I’ve done your chest, just need to do your neck – lie still for a minute.”

“How?” he croaked.

“I realized the only way it was going to end, was badly, with one of you dead.” The doctor passed Kirk a glass of water with a straw. “Here, drink this. So, that’s when I had a flash of inspiration,” McCoy continued as Kirk sipped the water, enjoying its cool feel on his sore throat. “What if one of you just looks dead, could we get away with it? I couldn’t get to Spock, so I gave you a neural paralyzer, which simulates death.”

“A neural paralyzer,” Kirk grinned, feeling ecstatic. “I wonder what Spock will have to say about that.”

McCoy grinned. “I can’t wait to see his face. Here, hold the regenerator in place.”

Kirk recalled the challenge. “What happened with the wedding?”

“Called off, as far as I can make out. I left with you, so I didn’t see the end of it.”

A minute later, he heard the sickbay door open and close.

“Doctor, I shall be resigning my commission immediately, of course.” Even from where he was, Kirk could hear that Spock sounded back to normal, though clearly upset. He put the regen unit down and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, stood up. Next to the bed, McCoy had left him a fresh tunic.

“Spock, I—” McCoy began again.

“So I would appreciate your making the final arrangements,” Spock added, ignoring the doctor’s attempt to put him right.

It didn’t stop McCoy trying again. “Spock, I—”

“Doctor, please, let me finish. There can be no excuse for the crime of which I'm guilty. I intend to offer no defense.” Kirk knew he shouldn’t be grinning, because Spock was probably feeling pretty bad, but he couldn’t help it. “Furthermore,” continued Spock, “I shall order Mister Scott to take immediate command of this vessel.”

“Don't you think you better check with me first?” Kirk asked.

Spock swung around, his face showing open shock. “Captain…?” his quiet voice held a note of disbelief as Kirk walked past him.

A moment later, Spock had grabbed him by the arms and swung him round. “Jim!”

It was a better reaction than Kirk could have possibly imagined. The grin on Spock’s face in that moment would be a memory he would hold and cherish to the end of his days. More than that, though, through the physical contact, it was as if he’d suddenly gained the Vulcan ability of touch telepathy, as he could clearly sense Spock’s relief and elation flooding him. As if that wasn’t enough, he could also sense the deep feelings Spock had for him, not just as a friend, but as a lover. Kirk felt euphoric. As they looked at each other in that moment, they both _knew_.

Spock seemed to suddenly remember they weren’t alone, looking at McCoy and Chapel, his smile disappearing as he collected himself. “I am pleased to see you, Captain,” he said hesitantly. “You seem uninjured. I am at something of a loss to understand it, however.”

Kirk grinned. “Blame McCoy. That was no tri-ox compound he shot me with. He slipped in a neural paralyzer. Knocked me out, simulated death.”

After McCoy had shooed Chapel out, the doctor got Spock to tell them what had happened with T’Pring. 

“Ah, yes, the girl. Most interesting. It must have been the combat. When I thought I had killed the captain, I found I had lost all interest in T'Pring. The madness was gone.”

Kirk was relieved to hear the plak tow had gone, but at some level he knew Spock was still in pon farr and would need him, and he was more than happy to oblige.

His thoughts were interrupted by a transmission to let them know that Komack had approved their visit to Vulcan. Perfect. Now Spock would be his.

“There's just one thing, Mister Spock,” McCoy said as Kirk prepared to leave. “You can't tell me that when you first saw Jim alive that you weren't on the verge of giving us an emotional scene that would have brought the house down.”

Hands on hips, Kirk turned to Spock, curious what he would say to that.

“Merely my quite logical relief that Starfleet had not lost a highly proficient captain.”

Kirk smirked. “Yes, Mister Spock. I understand.”

There was a definite twinkle in Spock’s eyes as he gazed at Kirk. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Of course, Mister Spock, your reaction was quite logical,” McCoy said, a clear note of sarcasm in his voice.

Spock either didn’t notice, or ignored it. “Thank you, Doctor.

“They had almost reached the door, when McCoy added, “In a pig's eye!”

They both turned to look at the doctor, all innocence, then gazed at one another in shared understanding.

“Come on, Spock,” Kirk said happily. “ _Let’s go mind the store_.”

 

FIN


End file.
